


Of Drill Sergeants and their Privates

by OtakuAngelD



Series: Stars and Stripes Forever [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dom/sub, Kink Meme, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, patriotic sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 20:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1278265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtakuAngelD/pseuds/OtakuAngelD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhodes decides to relive his days at bootcamp with a little help from Steve. Pointless smut ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was created/written for the Avenger's Kink meme. The prompt was as follows:
> 
> Steve/Tony or Steve/Rhodey - patriotic sex  
> Take it however you like. Make this horny porny prompt as passionate or as kinky and dirty as possible.
> 
> Maybe incorporate uniforms and flags too.
> 
> This may become part of a larger series of one shot porn stories featuring these two.  
> \----

"Attention!" the order was barked through the empty air force barracks. It echoed off the bare walls and the metal lockers. "Officer on the floor!" Another loud call and then the sound. The sound of highly polished boots echoing over a cold concrete floor.

He kept his eyes shut tight. It was all part of the game. Keep his eyes closed and stay in the bunk. Stay, even as he felt the harsh presence come close to him. Until he could almost feel the man breathing down his neck.

"Private Rhodes." There was just something about that. The way that deeply masculine voice grated his name, a mixture of disgust and anger and patience worn too thin. It didn't matter that he had just been severely demoted. That was what this was about. This was about remembering what it was to be a new recruit. To be in the many times harsh care of the Drill Sergeant.

He squeezed his eyes tighter, to pretend to be asleep. "Get up you sad sack of shit." Again that thrill ran through his body, right to his cock. Unconsciously, he shifted to peek at the man towering above his rack.

Blond and utterly flawless, uniform pressed to perfection, shoes shined to an impossible sheen. Blue eyes steely and impatient, a dark line on full lips. Lips that had just used such foul language. To think that Captain America was capable of swearing. It was a turn on and he had to shut his eyes again to keep that view from affecting him more.

His body jarred suddenly and he heard a loud clang. Captain Rogers...now Drill Sergeant Rogers had just kicked his borrowed bed, hard. He was certain the frame had bent. "Private, I know you're awake. Get up right now. That is an order! If you don't, I'll be forced to pull you out. You don't want that, Private."

He did. He really did. He wanted to feel those large, warm hands upon his dark skin. He wanted to see how nice it looked, so pale against him. He wanted that rough touch, dragging him out of his covers and into the light of day. He curled up tighter, reveling in disobeying orders. It wasn't often the Iron Patriot got to disobey a direct order from a superior officer.

There was a sigh, or perhaps a growl. He couldn't tell which. Then hands grabbed him. He tried not to make a sound as they circled around his chest and he was hauled physically out of bed. The blankets came with and fell to the floor. He was dumped a minute later, glad for the itchy wool covering, to hide his erection.

Sergeant Rogers stood above him, splendid and indomitable. His arms were crossed and his chin was set, nostrils flaring. It was a sure sign that he was just as affected by this. That and the tent straining in regulation trousers.

"You are a disgrace, Private Rhodes. You bring shame to the Corp. Stand up." 

The man stood from the floor and tried to look dismissive. Yeah right, Drill Sergeant. I'm not scared of you. But it was hard not to take a step back when Rogers got into his face, mere inches away, to bawl him out. Each harsh word falling skillfully, painfully from those perfect lips.

"You make me sick. To think that after 70 years, this is all my great country amounts to. Little boys playing soldier. While you're in bed people are dying. Your brothers are out there. Your sisters. And you. You just lay in bed like a lump. You aren't fit to wear the uniform of men far greater than you. Take it off!"

His back hit one of the lockers with a hollow thud. His breath had started to speed up. "S....sir."

Rogers rounded on him again. "Don't call me sir. I work for a living, unlike you. And you heard me, Private. Take. It. Off. Now."

Rhodes flinched a little. "Yes." Shaking fingers started on the buttons and zippers of his borrowed BDUs.

"Yes what?" Rogers snapped, arms crossing again, eyes boring into him, making him feel naked already.

"Yes, drill sergeant." He replied meekly, head hanging, fingers finally undoing fasteners and letting the uniform fall to the floor. His military issue underpants went with it, leaving him completely bare.

He could hear Steve swallow. He knew he was attractive. He also knew that in Steve's time, the man would have never been like this with a man of his color. Regardless of the equality in Steve's hand picked group back in the day, once back in America and away from the war, that would all have changed. The 40s and the rampant racism. It was something he never wanted to experience. It was why, when they had agreed to this, he had laid one ground rule. No matter what, Steve wasn't to use any racial slurs. Anything else was okay. More than okay.

"Pick it up. You desecrate the uniform more. It doesn't belong on the ground."

Rhodes obediently leaned down. "Not like that. Turn around, Private. I don't want to see your damned face." He turned away, presenting his ass to the man. He started to lean over again. Slowly. So so slowly. More conscious than ever of those eyes on him, on his ass. He could hear Rogers groan. The man's voice went lower in pitch. "Put them on your rack and apologize. Apologize to the flag."

"But Drill Sergeant...." He started but his words didn't finish because Steve was right there already, one hand smacking hard against his bare ass. He knew back in Roger's day Drill Sergeants had been allowed to physically reprimand their trainees. Punching and slapping and worse had been the norm.

"No buts. Do it. And then, you can drop. I want 50."

The uniform ended on the bed and he muttered a soft, not very sincere apology to the American Flag upon the sleeve. He swallowed and dropped to the cold floor. Hands and knees and then up on his toes. Without prompting, he started his count. "One..." Pushups were easy, so long as his hard cock didn't make contact with the cold ground or the small puddle of dripping pre-come slowly forming under him.

At 15, he could hear the footsteps come closer and a small growl of “Lower. My grandmother can do better.” At 25, he felt the cool, hard pressure of a boot squarely upon the middle of his back, stepping down upon him, heavily. “I said lower, Private.” He struggled to keep up, but his arms couldn’t support him and Rhodes crumbled to the ground. Immediately, the cold hit his crotch and he could feel his balls draw up in protection. He squirmed a little, but Roger’s foot was too heavy on him.

“That’s where you belong, Private. On the ground. No better than a dog. Can you bark, Private?” The pressure didn’t let up and he let out a half-hearted yip. He was rewarded with the pressure easing and then those shiny boots came into view. “Good boy. Now, lick them.” One toe pushed towards his face. Rhodes shuddered. This was going too far…“I said LICK THEM!” Rogers shoved the boot into his face again and Rhodes found himself obeying. Just closing his eyes and doing as he was ordered. Just follow orders. Lapping over the leather, tasting shoe polish but no dirt. Rogers was too anal retentive for him to ever have a pair of dirty boots. Each lap growing slightly more bold until he could glance up at the man. Look up with dark eyes at Rogers, standing over him like some all powerful god, demanding to be worshiped. His tongue paused and his eyes widened at how much the man was straining against his pants now. Chuckling, Rhodes returned to his licking, pretending that the toe of that boot was Rogers’ cock. A cock he wanted so badly that his hard on was coming back.

He felt the pressure again, of a foot, this time against his ribs. He knew Rogers could easily kill him. A kick could send him flying across the room if the man chose. Instead, it was a gentle nudge. “On your back, Private.” Rhodes rolled over, immediately trying to hide his hardness with his hands. The foot moved to knock one away. “No. I want to see it. I want to see how shameful you are. You must be so proud of your cock. Think you’re such a big man.” Rogers was moving again and that boot was placed right over his penis. 

“S…Sargeant, I don’t think…”

Steve stepped down upon his hardness and ground lightly. The pressure and the sudden friction was painful and amazing all at once. Rhodes cried out. “That’s right, Private. You don’t think. You follow orders. My orders.” He stepped again, grinding a little more, causing tears to prick at his eyes and nausea to build in his stomach. “Do I make myself clear?”

Rhodes turned his face away, panting, trying not to cry out again. “Yes, Drill Sergeant. Whatever you say, Drill Sergeant.” He was rewarded by the feeling of that foot leaving. It was replaced by a small tube, thrown at him like it and he was disgusting. Lube. His heart sped up and his cock ached.

“Then prove it. Fuck yourself, Private. Spread your ass cheeks and finger yourself.”

“But I’m not gay, Drill Sergeant.” He protested.

“You are if I say you are. Now do it or I’ll do worse to you.” Steely blue eyes burned into him. Rhodes obeyed, shifting himself so that his knees spread out invitingly before squirting lube onto his hand and started to stuff himself full. One finger and then two. Pumping them in and out of himself before Roger’s eyes. Sweat starting to slide down his dark muscles from the effort. His other hand reached to touch himself but he was stopped by Rogers’ sharp words. “Did I tell you you could touch that tiny prick of yours? You touch it and I’ll break your hand, Private.”

He let his hand fall to his side and concentrated on fingering his hole. In and out. Sometimes shallow, sometimes deep, each movement harder and more desperate. Writhing on his own hand before the eyes of America’s Greatest Hero. A hero that looked like he was going to eat him alive. He welcomed it as he welcomed a third finger, spreading himself wider and forcing himself to moan wantonly. “Please…please…”

Rogers seemed unmoved. Unimpressed. “Please what? Let you cum? You are in no position to ask me for anything, Private. I’ll give you what I want when I want. Now get the hell up.”

It took everything he had to pull his fingers out and stand up. He was so hard it was painful. He could barely move. Barely think. It was just automatic to do as he was told. Just do what Rogers ordered, even if not verbally. It was definitely an order when he was grabbed by the shoulders and shoved over the side of his rack, so that he was face first in his uniform, his ass held high in the air by the metal bed end. He could hear the sound of a zipper and he was certain he was already drooling in need for that thick hard cock.

He felt a hand upon his ass, rough from years of hard work and weapon’s training. These were the hands that saved America so many times. He felt them roughly pull his cheeks wide and he heard a dark laugh. “Look at you, Private. Just look. You’re quivering for me already. You want me to shove my big cock into your pretty ass.”

“N…No….D…Drill Sergeant.” He managed, trying not to shiver. “Please don’t…”

Rogers wouldn’t listen. There was a hardness against his aching hole and then there was pain. Even with working himself with his fingers, he would never be prepared for the sheer size of Rogers. They said that black men had big cocks, but Rogers had all his previous lovers beat. It was amazing, filling him up so completely. It hurt and his hands gripped into the cloth of the uniform. He screamed. “No! Please!” before he fell silent to just gasp as the man continued to push in.

Rogers didn’t seem to know mercy. He shoved in hard, taking him in one hard thrust. He could feel the scratch of the zipper against his ass. The man hadn’t even taken his pants off… Then it was leaving him. Nearly out and then suddenly he was filled again to the point of near tearing. It was painful and perfect and beautiful. He could hear the man’s grunts each time he pushed in. He could feel those pale hands gripping his hips tight, keeping him from moving in any direction. No getting away. No trying to move against Rogers, with Rogers. He was forced to stay still. Forced to become this man’s living fuck toy. Rogers was moaning low. “That’s right, Private. We finally found something you’re good for. You’re so damn tight. You must love my cock. You don’t seem to want to let it go.”

He would have protested, but that hardness inside of him rubbed against his prostate. Whatever he would have said was lost in a sudden explosion of mindless pleasure that had him panting “Yes, Drill Sergeant Rogers. I‘m your cockslut, Drill Sergeant Rogers.” Anything to feel that dick pounding against that spot more. Anything to feel those clothed thighs brush up against his bared ass every time he pushed forward. He was getting close, so close. He whimpered and turned his face to glance behind him.

Rogers’ eyes were closed. His face flushed with pleasure. His lips parted slightly in a silent moan each time his cock was swallowed by Rhode’s ready ass. He was…he was beautiful. Once again, the man lost his heart to the warrior out of time. The feeling was cemented when Rogers leaned down, strong chest still clad in military attire pressing to his naked back in order to reach around and take his cock and stroke.

Rhodes cried out, words unable to form anymore. The assault on his dick and his ass were too much. He shuddered and came hard in Rogers’ hand and all over the scratchy green covers. He had missed the uniform by only a few inches. He didn’t care. His mind was reeling and Rogers was still pumping away. Thrusting into his body like a madman. Super Soldier stamina making it so that he lasted a good deal longer. 

Soft lips caressed his ear. “Pathetic Private. Coming before me. Can’t even keep up with an old man.” He knew that Rogers would go for hours. Using his boneless body, still over-stimulated by orgasm until he felt like he was going to pass out. Until he was whimpering because every last nerve ending in his body felt like it was on fire. Until he felt like he was dying. Only then, when he was on the verge of begging Rogers to just pull out because he couldn’t take it anymore, then Rogers would come. He felt the man throb and explode inside of him. He felt the white hot cum filling him to the brim. He heard the groan of completion and felt the weight of the man heavy on top of him for a moment.

He felt the small kiss to the back of his neck before the man pulled out, leaving him aching. He could feel semen seeping out of his abused hole. He could barely move. He could barely hear Rogers issue another other. “Now get up and hit the head. You smell like a French whore.” He rolled over in time to see the blond tucking himself inside his pants, looking as if he hadn’t just fucked a man into a barracks mattress.

Rhodes made an attempt to get up. He felt rather proud of himself until he took the first step and his legs gave out. He didn’t have time to feel fear of falling because Rogers was there to catch him. He made a small sound as he was swept up into those strong arms. He knew he wasn’t a small man, but Rogers would always be stronger than him. “Easy there.” He murmured and quickly shifted the man into his lap to cuddle gently. One hand groped to take the discarded uniform and drape it over him to keep him warm. A warm pale hand cupped his dark jaw and angled his face up.

He closed his eyes and welcomed the kiss, feeling the way that tongue dipped into his mouth, claiming it thoroughly. He pulled away a moment later to place smaller kisses to his tingling lips. “Just take your time, James. I made sure everyone would be out on maneuvers all day.”

To that, Rhodes chuckled and stole another slow, sensual kiss. Leave it to Rogers to make sure their playtime remained safe and private. “Good. Because when I can stand again, I’m going to make you take a shower with me.”

Steve laughed warmly and whispered hotly into Rhode’s ear. “Sir, yes sir.”


	2. Star Spangled Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the previous chapter, written as a Treat for the Avanger's Kink Meme.

It had taken far too long to get his legs working again. So long that he had ended up napping against Steve’s chest. Something about mind blowing orgasms made him blissfully tired. It was even more bliss to glance up at the man, to watch him. As always, Steve was watching him. Lightly stroking over his back, under the draped uniform top, face gentle. He almost didn’t want to break the man’s serenity. He knew that the man didn’t have much chance for peace. His captain was a man forged in war. He knew nothing else but fighting. Fighting against the Nazis. Fighting against the Chitani. Fighting against god knew what new enemy happened to suddenly appear to threaten Truth, Justice, and the American Way. Rhodes might be the Iron Patriot but this man was truly Captain America. He was more a representation of the Stars and Stripes than anyone Rhodes had ever met.

Steve smiled down at him and murmured. “So, you finally woke up. I was wondering when you’d come back around. I did a number on you, didn’t I?”

Rhodes only chuckled and once more tried to come to terms with the strange dichotomy of this man and the man that had just done such things to him only hours earlier. Things he could still feel. Now that he was more awake, he could feel the discomfort of dried semen and he could smell the pungent aroma of his own sweat. A smell he didn’t like personally, but Steve seemed to adore, considering how he had buried his nose against his neck to take a deep inhale of him. He reached up, dark fingertips tangling into golden hair. Not regulation cut at all, and not in a modern style either. It was something he might see out of a Retro movie. It suited his Steve perfectly.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m tough, remember.” He used his hold upon that hair to pull the man from his shoulder for a kiss, trying to tease the man into entering his mouth again, wanting as always to be claimed by this living piece of Americana. He made a sound of protest when Steve didn’t fall for the tease, but not too loudly as the kiss he did receive was far too sweet for him to truly be upset by the man withholding on him. Something he supposed he should be used to after sex with Steve. The man was so afraid of his own strength sometimes that after it came to bare during love making, he always seemed guilty for it. It was up to Rhodes to remind him that he wasn’t made of glass. He was Iron and Steve would never hurt him purposely, at least not in a way that wasn’t for pleasure.

“I know…I just…”

Rhodes pressed one finger to his lips. “None of that, Brooklyn Boy. I grew up in Philly. I can take whatever you throw at me and then some.” He felt the man’s frown become a slight smile and that was enough. He knew he had won this battle. The war would rage, but he was certain that eventually, with enough time and patience, he would claim absolute victory against the enemy of Steve’s mountain of doubts and guilt. “Now, I believe I had an order to take a shower earlier. I think I need it now. And I also believe I ordered you to come with me. You wouldn‘t want to disobey a direct order would you?”

That made Steve outright laugh. He knew the man outranked him, even outside of their power play. A captain was higher than a lieutenant, but sometimes it was fun to see just how far he could go before Steve reminded him who was the higher ranking man. Before he could feel that wonderful rush that came from being under the control of this Icon of Moral Fortitude. An icon he was happily tarnishing each time they were together. He shivered at the feel of that calloused hand over his back. “Of course…Of course. How could I forget such an important order.”

He felt the man shift and suddenly he was being lifted again. It wasn’t like flying. He knew what that was like, both in jets and in the suit. This was something else. Being suspended over the ground, held by such strong arms was a feeling that he simply couldn’t get enough of. If he never flew again, if he could spend every day lifted into this strong and heady embrace, that would be enough for him. Once more he looped arms about that strong neck and allowed himself to be carried.

Steve only stopped a moment to grab a towel. It wasn’t one of those ugly brown towels that the military issued. Those never seemed to absorb any sort of water. Instead, he grabbed a different towel out of a locker. It looked like some sort of decorative towel and on closer look, he could see red and white stripes and a blue field and white stars. The flag. The flag printed on a towel. He laughed more when he saw a matching washcloth and some soap that had to be from the 1940s.

Rhodes could only shake his head. It must have belonged to Steve, placed here before the start of their games. Sometimes, he was certain that if he stabbed the man, he would bleed red, white and blue. But he didn’t want to stab Steve. He enjoyed being the one that got the shaft. A shaft he was eager to see. He hated feeling so denied. He hadn’t gotten to see Steve the way Steve got to see him. The way he still was. It was something he wanted to rectify.

Once in the bathroom, he squirmed a little. “Put me down… and stay still for me.” He knew Steve didn’t have to. That wasn’t their arrangement. But it was nice when Steve did what he wanted. He was set on bare feet, large hands still around his middle. It was always striking how similar in height they were. Steve was only an inch taller than himself. Eye to eye, alone in the bathroom and not looming over his prone body, the man didn’t see larger than life. He seemed human. Venerable. Touchable.

Quietly, his fingers started to undo fasteners. The new uniforms were so much easier to remove. The sound of Velcro wasn’t terribly sexy, but the sound of a zipper being drawn down was far more attractive. Eager hands pushed the jacket off and reached to the belt to undo. Fingers went to the buttons of the pants. Four buttons and then his fingers looped into the belt to pull them downwards towards Rogers’ ankles. He stopped, kneeling before the man before he started to unlace the boots he had licked not an hour or so ago. He looked up when he felt that strong hand in his barely there hair. He could feel them massaging his scalp though the slight black velvet nubs. Sometimes, he wondered if Steve would like it if he grew his hair a little. Nothing like Steve’s, but a style that would look good on a black man his age while still giving Steve something more to grab on.

Carefully, trying to ignore the fond caress he removed each boot and set them aside before pulling the pants completely off. He looked up again, at Steve, in just the brown kaki tee-shirt and those ugly issued briefs that barely held him in. He looked amazing. The man could make a tank-top and jeans look like high fashion. He was just the All-American Boy Next Door. And he belonged to Rhodes as surely as Rhodes belonged to him.

Steve started to remove the shirt, but he stopped him. “No. I want to do this.” To which Steve nodded and allowed Rhodes to rise again. Allowed it and braced himself for the hands slowly traveling under his tee-shirt.

Rhodes groaned at the feeling of skin. For such a hard man, Steve had such nice soft skin. It felt like silk, stretched thin over hard iron framing. It was difficult not to let his fingertips glide against each muscle in that firm abdominal. But resisted in order to slide spread pals up and over well defined pectorals. Each slide up brought the shirt up more, baring that pale skin to his eye. Once more, for just a moment, he placed his hand against bared flesh. Just set it there and stared at the stark contrast. Dark and light. It was beautiful and it made him chuckle ruefully. If the brothers in the projects only knew that Rhodey had fallen for a white guy. He’d never hear the end of it.

Finally, he took it off the man completely, leaving that exquisite chest open and in plain view. He wanted to lick over those perfect chest muscles. He wanted to watch those cute rosy nipple grow hard. He wanted to feel every little quiver of muscle as the man fought to hold himself back. He wanted all that and more. His breath ragged as he drew fingertips down a bicep bigger than his thigh back towards the real treasure. Skipping off the arm and circling around the navel before following the faint blond trail of hair that leg beneath underwear that was already straining. 

Unceremoniously, he whisked it down, going with it so that he could be face to face as it were with Rogers’ proud cock. Mentally, he sent a prayer of thanks and praise to the scientist who had created the Serum. It had made every part of his Captain larger than life, rising him to the peek of human perfection and perhaps slightly beyond. It also meant he recovered quickly. Even if Rhodes was aware his lower half wasn’t capable of taking that monster in again, he knew he could still provide the man a different, equally pleasurable service. But not here.

Standing one more, he started to walk his way towards the shower, trying to limp. Each step made his lower back ache. It was a tinge of remaining proof of how thoroughly fucked he had been. He was glad that it was one of those huge communal showers one found in barrack. He suddenly wished he had brought some shower shoes, but getting a soaking wet Captain America to join him was a far higher priority than worrying about the little things like foot fungus.

He glanced over his shoulder at the man, dark eyes burning and suggestive, lingering on that half hard cock. “Well, if you don’t join me, I’ll just start on my own.” He turned back to turn on one of the 12 showerheads on the wall and jumped back at the sudden blast of high pressure water. Freezing cold!

Desperately, he fiddled with the knobs before Rogers could get in there with him. He was well aware of Steve’s issues with cold water. He’d held the man’s hand while he had had gruesome flashbacks over decades stuck in an iceberg. He wasn’t going to let the man slide into one of those memories now. This was their time. His and Steve’s.

Arms went around him from behind and he felt that warm chest. “It’s all right, James. When you’re with me, I can handle it.” He didn’t doubt the man, but he still made certain that the water went hot before he maneuvered them both under the spray. He could feel Rogers immediately relax behind him under the warm water; enough that he could turn around in the man’s embrace and press their foreheads together a moment.

“Let’s get you clean, boy scout.” He breathed back, snatching that little washcloth and that soap. Once more, humor stuck him. He had just been lectured about respecting the flag, and here he was, using it as a washcloth. Well, not it exactly, but close enough. The red and white stripes and the little blue stars disappearing under a heavy later of suds before he pressed the cloth against Steve’s perfect skin.

Now, he could explore more. He could take his time. He could feel that powerful body under the slide of the soapy cloth. He worshiped each muscle, scrubbing it clean. His cloth went to the man’s chest and he allowed himself to play a moment. Circling those nipples, watching them slowly becoming erect as he gave them his undivided attention. Though the cloth, he gave one a little pinch and tweak and was rewarded with a small gasping moan from the blond.

He couldn’t remain there long. Glancing down, that erection had grown, pointing straight at him, demanding that he pay attention to it. Hand and cloth wondered down until he had hold of it. Palm around the shaft, flag patterned cloth between him and hard flesh, soapy and slick. He gave it a stroke and watched Rogers eyes flutter shut a moment, giving into the small bit of pleasure he felt. It wasn’t enough. Rhodes knew he would never be in control of this man, but in this moment, he wanted as much of it as he could take before the tables were turned. Just the sound of the blond, strained in the effort to keep control of himself was enough to go to his own prick.

Pressing closer to the captain, he took his own cock into hand too. Between the two of them, it was almost too much to hold onto. But the feeling was amazing. That hard, thick heat pressed and sliding against his own. Each tug and thrust threatening Rogers’ control until his shoulders were grabbed and Rhodes found himself slammed against the cold shower wall, Rogers humping against his hand hard, mouth slightly slack from barely held off moaning. He pushed back, keeping his hand tight around their sliding cocks. The slickness of soap and water now joined by fluid leaking from sensitive tips.

He could feel orgasm approaching quickly and he let go, vaguely hearing the sound of the cloth fall to the floor in a wet splash. Not this time…he didn’t to go alone this time. Desperately, he pushed at Steve, murmuring into his ear. “Let me suck you. You’re all clean now, so let me put you in my mouth. I want to. I’ve been hungry for your cock all week and one serving just wasn’t enough. Please… Please Steve. I want you to fuck my mouth.”

At his pleading, Rogers relented and pulled away, hand moving from shoulders back to his head, pushing him down. Not guiding, pushing. Forcing him to his knees. Not that it requited much strength when he went willingly, left knee landing next to the cloth, nudging the stars and stripes. 

“Thank you…” He breathed before shifting the blond so that all the soap was rinsed away before he got his mouth around the tip of it.

There was nothing quite like the taste of Rogers’ cock. The very first time he had gotten it into his mouth he knew he would become addicted to the taste. Salty and masculine and warm, he wanted nothing more than to gobble it down like a man starving. Wondering if Steve enjoyed watching his hard, red cock disappearing between full, thick black lips as much as he loved making that very thing happen.

He concentrated on the tip at first. Sucking at the sensitive head, tongue tracing over it, dipping into the urethra to gather up that unique flavor that was Captain Rogers. He lavished his affections there until he could feel fingers tighten against his scalp. He knew it was take more in or be choked from sudden thrusting.

Rhodes relaxed his jaw and moved his head forward, feeling that thickness sliding deeper into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue, so that he could barely move it except to massage the underside as it moved. Each swallow brought Rogers deeper until he could feel the tip hitting his gag reflex. Only he didn’t gag. He didn’t gag because Rogers was pulling out of his mouth again. He knew not for long. Like with his ass, his mouth existed for Steve to use as he pleased. Rhodes never thought he’d be the sort of get off on being used like that, definitely not on giving head, but the proof was right here. He was hot for this man and hot for his dick, no matter how he got it. Ass, hand, mouth. As long as it was inside of him, throbbing strongly, working up into a frenzy, he didn’t care.

He felt the hand upon the top of his head guiding him. He relaxed his throat more and swallowed harder. His jaw ached and the back of his throat felt raw. Unconsciously, he tried to shut his mouth slightly, to ease the pressure. He felt his teeth scrape over delicate flesh. He head the most glorious sound from the blond. In his own enjoyment, he had forgotten for a moment that his upright and noble Captain enjoyed some teeth. It was a reminder that set Rhodes ablaze all over again as he made sure that shaft got the full brunt of scraping teeth with each thrust. This was Steve. His Steve. And only he could make the man make such sounds. Only his mouth, his body could cause Captain America to lose control and become a beast of sheer, ravenous sexuality. He had corrupted this man as much as he had corrupted the small flag cloth now pushed aside.

Rhodes’ hand reached up to cup tightening balls, rolling them around in his palm. Steve was close. He could tell. His other hand went down to his own cock, stroking it in time with the trusts in his mouth. He moaned throatily, the sound vibrating along hard flesh. A part of him wanted for Steve to pull out of his mouth so he could jack him off. So he could get his face covered in that thick ropy cum, but a stronger part of him wanted to taste it. It was the part that won out. He could wear a face full of Captain America’s jizz some other time, for now, he was desperate to have his other hole filled up with Steve’s passion.

His hand jerked frantically on his own cock. He sucked harder on Steve’s. His knees were starting to hurt. His jaw was numb. He could feel the water of the shower cooling rapidly. He had to get Steve to come and come now, before the shower became an ice bath and orgasm became the last thing on his mind. Desperately, he deep throated the man, swallowing and gagging before his head was pulled nearly away. He understood. Teeth and tongue attacked the tip once more, working down the shaft before there was one last powerful thrust. 

“Swallow it all.”

In his hand, his cock twitched and exploded. He felt not shame at all, coming just from the taste that suddenly assaulted his tongue and flowed down his throat. Steve’s hand was on his head still, petting it, coaxing him to follow that order. An order he was more than happy to try and obey. Drinking down as much semen as he could, milking the man dry before the grip on his head changed and he felt himself being moved to stand again.

“You spilled a little, James.” Steve’s voice was dark still, from his latest orgasm and he leaned to lick the corner of his mouth. Rhodes could only sag against him and offer his mouth up to the man again. His jaw hurt so much and his lips were overly bruised and sensitive and he welcomed that harsh, demanding tongue in his mouth, sliding against his, his that was too tired to truly respond, aware that Steve was tasting himself upon his dark lips.

He pulled away a moment later, leaving Rhodes breathless and panting once more. Rhodes took hold of powerful shoulders as water was turned off and he was led out of the shower to be wrapped in that ridiculous towel. Letting himself be dried off and cared for. As he dried, Steve murmured, “You’re too good to me, James.”

He managed to answer when Steve was drying himself, that American Flag towel wrapped around his board shoulders like a cloak. The image struck him deep to the core of his being. He shook his head. “No, Steve. I’ve just servicing my country like a good soldier, Captain America.”

At that, Steve just looked at him a moment before chuckling and shaking his head. “Then it’s a good thing I like being serviced, Iron Patriot.” He approached and wrapped the star end of the towel around Rhodes. They still had a few more hours before they’d have to go back to their normal lives until Rhodes’ next weekend leave.


End file.
